The Honorable Thing
by Addicted1
Summary: Fulfilling a request for an Outlaw Queen angst missing scene from 4.1. Partial prompt: " . . . Robin's inner thoughts, whatever leads him to the terrible conclusion that he has to go and break Regina's heart." Oneshot


**A/N:** Miss Poisonous requested OQ angst and provided the following prompt: "You can choose from: missing scene between the diner scene and the office scene, Marian and Robin talking, or Robin's inner thoughts, whatever leads him to the terrible conclusion that he has to go and break Regina's heart."

This was my quick, sloppy, and un-edited attempt to comply. I thought I'd post it in case anyone else out there is as ravenous as I am for as much OQ drama as possible!

.  
>.<p>

* * *

><p>He'd given Marian the night.<p>

His heart had ached to follow Regina. To reassure her. To console her. To console himself.

But he'd had responsibilities. To Marian. And to Roland, who didn't really remember 'Mama,' despite recognizing her from Will Scarlet's pencil sketch.

So he'd given Marian the night. He'd checked his temper, even as she hadn't checked hers, berating him for having fallen so far from the man she knew (Roland tents away with Will and Little John—giving him and Marian a chance to 'celebrate' her return. Celebrate indeed.) When she'd had enough of impuning his character and judgment and moved onto Regina's, however, he'd had enough. He'd been reminding himself to have compassion toward Marian, his wife, who must have undergone a great shock. But that compassion would have been easier to remember if she'd extended some toward him.

And since when had it become so hard to empathize with her?

Looking back, it was the word "irredeemable" that did it.

He couldn't blame Marian for hating the Evil Queen, the woman that tore her from him and from Roland. She was righteously angry.

He was shredded. The woman he loved killed the woman he had loved.

He didn't know what to think.

And he felt everything.

Regina's heart in his hands. Marian's laughter against his chest. The gaping emptiness where her voice used to be. Regina's fingers, laced through his, in front of a crackling fire.

"She is evil through and through, Robin," Marian yelled. "Evil to the core. I don't know what manner of seduction she has employed to ensnare you, but do not let this new land play tricks on you. She is a monster. Utterly irredeemable."

"Enough," he said. The first word he's spoken since Roland had left with Little John. But the force behind it startled Marian into silence. He'd given himself away. "She is beyond redeemable. Already redeemed, even. Many times over."

"You love her," Marian said, not uncertain but begging for his contradiction.

"I do," Robin said. He would not lie to her. He would not demean himself, Regina, or Marian in such a way.

"And me?" she asked quietly.

He could feel her rage, her confusion still simmering across the surface, but those emotions had receded in the face of complete _hurt_. He had hurt her, his Marian. Had hurt her by not waiting for her. He'd claimed he'd walk the fires of hell for her.

Now was his chance.

"I love you," he vowed. "I never really stopped. You are my wife and the mother of my child. I will always love you." And he did. A corner of his heart burned for Marian, and seeing her alive had lifted a cloud from his soul even as it shattered the blossoming hope he hadn't yet given a name too.

Relief and gratitude flooded Marian's face, and his complicated heart leapt and tore, constricting with her arms around him. "I never thought I'd see you again," she whispered fervently into his ear.

"Nor I, you," he replied, broken at how healed that scarred wound was.

"And we will never be parted again," Marian declared, her faith restored.

"Until death do us part," Robin answered, knowing she needed to hear it.

But he knew he meant it. He'd meant it when he vowed it, and he owed it to Marian to honor that vow. Whatever future he'd planned (hoped) to have—it had been overwritten by the resurrection of his past.

His past's future was restored. His son's mother was miraculously alive.

And tomorrow he would do the honorable thing.

He would face Regina. She deserved at least that much (_much more_) from him.

Marian clutched at him, and he raised his arms to enfold her in a hug, but his hands wouldn't settle, and her temple collided with his cheekbone.

His wife was back.

So he would crush the resilient, fragile heart of the one he loved most.

He was a monster.


End file.
